


A Profound Quiet

by Xycuro



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Frank Castle, Demon Matt Murdock, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, True Forms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xycuro/pseuds/Xycuro
Summary: The Witching Hour can be dreadful, but at least for tonight it wasn't so bad.





	A Profound Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> My friend gave me an angel/demon prompt to work with and of course I went with fratt.  
> They be chillin' and cuddlin'.

  
  
  
"Hey...take it easy, I got you."

 

Steady hands go over to grab hold of him.

  
They're cautious and familiar.

Matt understood a few things as he was carried towards the bedroom: he made it back to the apartment without anyone seeing him, it must've been darker than usual, and Frank is here.

 

He was safe.

 

 

When the moon was at its peak in wholeness and the night went still, many demons crawled out from their hiding places, letting their hunger take over.

 

The Witching Hour.

 

_Devil's Hour._

 

 

Matthew Murdock was _not_ one of those demons.

 

 

After a long night, he was spent, dragging himself away from the fight, allowing his victory high to last a little longer to give him flight. Typically, Daredevil wouldn't sprout wings, but thanks to the Hour, he was able to lift himself and soar off. Hopefully, he prayed that due to the late night, no soul would be able to see him like that.

Matt was never a fan of allowing himself to blend completely into his demon form. The transformation wasn't painful, but it can easily drain so much from him, especially when injured. Not only that, but from what the very few witnesses mentioned, it was a terrifying sight. Only his horns, claws, and fangs peaked out, while on occasion, a tail. He never really was a fan of it, but the extra limb seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes.

 

Gentle fingertips ran over his sides and Matt was brought back to the present. The mattress hits his knees softly and the demon could already feel the creeping exhaustion clawing its way back into his system.

 

"Fold your wings, Red," Frank murmured, running a hand down his back. "Don't want them to cramp up."

 

Oh? His wings were still out.

 

Huh.

 

 

Matt nodded, stretching them a bit to hear a quick pop of joints before they folded themselves flat against his back. The mask was taken off by another soothing touch, and soon he found himself lying down on silk sheets.

Frank moved over to lie down next to him, checking over everything that was needed.

"What happened?"

 

"Some demons decided to show their faces during this time again," Matt shrugs, though he winced slightly from the action. "Just another typical night during the Hour."

 

"Looks like you bit off more than you could chew."

 

"Yeah, I dived in headfirst into a pack of them. Got carried away in the moment."

 

"Witching Hour high?"

 

"It can get addictive..." Matt chuckled nervously.

Too addictive.

 

 

His wings refused to merge themselves back into his body, which would've been a problem, until the lush feel of feathers went over them. Matt couldn't help but to soak in the feeling, giving a slight shudder from the ticklish sensation. Frank was close to him, his heartbeat slowing down and his body becoming warmer as his wings went over to cover the demon protectively.

 

Celestials tend to do that.

 

An act of secure and benign responses.

 

 

Matt was always surprised that it came from Frank Castle out of everyone.

 

Their first interactions were of the typical narrative when it came to an angel and a demon. They brawled it out. Fought each other with fangs and fists. It was like a snake and mongoose battling for the final blow. Matt had always been a religious person even before his demon DNA was activated at maturity, enjoying the stories of archangels in the bible. But he fell prey to the stereotype of becoming enemies with an angel.

 

Although, it wasn't on instinct.

 

 

Wrong foot, wrong place, and wrong time. Matt still had memories of how Daredevil and The Punisher would sneer and hiss within every interaction before finally coming to an understanding. From that one understanding came more answers, which soon developed into questions themselves. Questions of what to do, where to start. Always the mission, Frank would curtly remind him.

Then those questions became personal, too personal. Personal enough to bring out the bad, but to relinquish the good as well.

Soft feathers gave him a reminder, letting him follow down memory lane again to when they got closer and closer. Close enough to the point where it didn't faze the two of them when a calloused, scarred hand went over the bruised knuckles of the one with claws. Where just their presence brought a comfort within the deafening silence.

Matt inches himself closer to Frank, pressing himself into the crook of his neck and allowing the outside to shut itself out from his hearing for just a moment. The angel got the memo, lowering his wings, draping them over him like a blanket.

 

"I shoulda tagged along with you out there."

 

"Don't start, Frank," Matt tried to growl, but it came out as a weak grunt. "I handled it just fine, you don't have to worry so much."

 

"Trust me, it's my job to worry about you," Frank quipped back.

 

"I know."

 

Everything always went quiet whenever he was around the angel. It was a relaxing response that the demon took advantage of whenever the chance was offered. Frank didn’t mind at all, absorbing the tranquility himself.  
  
The Witching Hour was still heavy and the effects it held out towards those tied into its web made everything so vigorous. The elements were at their peak and it was potent enough to linger out and bleed into any supernatural creature lurking around. Matt tried to fully relax in the angel’s hold, but the Hour was taunting him, continuously feeding him vehement energy that made his insides churn and tried to coax his instincts to lash out. He managed to keep himself under control during this time, but it was still hell underneath his skin, almost making him want to scratch at it furiously to settle it down. He resisted doing _that_ at least.  
  
  
“Everything all good, Red?”  
  
Damn it.  
  
“No…not really,” Matt hissed out slightly, adjusting his position again.  
  
Frank grunts. “Trust me, I’m pretty sure I trimmed my feathers earlier. They should be softer than silk right now.”  
  
“It’s not that it’s just…”  
  
“The Hour?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
  
There was a brief pause when Frank nodded, humming lightly before continuing. “I know that when this shit happens it makes demons go all high strung. Is that what’s going on with you right now?”  
  
He couldn’t lie to him since it was the truth. “Yeah I…its _really_ insistent. I don’t know how long I can hold onto keeping my form like this.”  
  
“You usually shift into your full demon form during this time?”  
  
Matt gave a quick nod. “It helps me throughout the Hour.”  
  
“Then why don’t you shift?”  
  
  
The demon perks his head up, trying to level himself to Frank’s gaze.  
“What?”  
  
“Just go ahead and shift into your full form,” Frank shrugs, his wings folding away for the time being. “S’not gonna be a problem.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Did I stutter, Red?”  
  
  
Matt couldn’t help but to give a quick laugh, admiring the brute honesty that came from the angel. Frank has seen Matt in his full-fledged demon form before a couple of times, once from afar and another at a last minute ruse. Self-consciousness always picked at Matt at those moments where he can show his form. His memory picked up the horrified responses of innocents and other supernatural creatures from the past, reminding him that although he can’t see his form, everyone else can. And they were always terrified. Matt could never blame them. Even Foggy and Karen had some hesitation before looking away in fear.  
  
  
Except Frank wasn’t afraid.  
  
  
Wasn’t disgusted.  
  
  
So he allowed himself to indulge in the Hour’s effects, letting it seep through for tonight. Matt took a deep breath and immediately felt the change overtake him. The ringing in his ears subsided once he sensed the weight of his multiple horns take place along with the shift in his bloodstream. It was quick and easy, too easy now that the Hour was being generous in giving energy.  
  
Matt waited for a moment, hearing the hitch in Frank’s breathing after the transformation went by. For a split second, the demon got worried, thinking that maybe Frank could be having second thoughts. Maybe he will become sickened by it.    
  
Until the plush feathers grazed over his wings again, only this time, he felt more than the regular set. There were more covering him again.  
  
  
_More set of wings._  
  
  
  
There was a glow coming off from Frank, there _had_ to be. His body temperature changed and became warmer than regular human temperature. A clawed hand that didn’t belong to him went over to grab his own, moving it over to feel the ridges and curves of skin that felt like _marble_.  
  
Frank’s heartbeat was slow, but it was consistent, strong. Each beat was a pulse that felt more comforting than any other sound he’s heard. Matt didn’t think every touch that the feathers made over him would get any softer, but somehow they did. The angel was in his true form as well, and Matt had the privilege to admire the whole picture.  
  
Frank continued to guide his hand to see him, feeling the closed eyes on the shoulders and the extra appendages that sprouted at the top. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the glow of the halo that radiated from above. Eventually, his hand was brought to the angel’s face. All the demon felt was a cool surface that held no features. Completely smooth without a hint of a visage. His hand settled at the side.   
  
Meanwhile, the angel's other hand went over to trace around the hardened skin, feeling the bumps of scale patches. Frank was taking in the entirety of the demon, keeping his gaze fixated on the rough spikes and muscle while his hand trailed over to settle itself behind the bone-like texture of the demon's head. Matt sensed no disgust. Not a single response that would be a negative reaction. Only the clear admiration that came from an angel.   
  
  
  
**_"Feeling better, Red?"_**  
  
  
  
Multiple pitches bombarded his senses.   
  
Frank's voice was heavily layered in other sets of his own, only in different tones with a similar cadence. His voice almost had its own frequency.   
  
It was a painfully beautiful sound.   
  
  
_"Yeah..."_ Matt says lightly, hearing the gravely echo in his voice as he moved closer to be deeper in the angel's embrace, allowing his eyes to close _. "All good, Frank."_  
  
Everything went still again.   
  
  
  
_Safe_ , the demon's mind reminded him.   
  
  
  
He was safe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I drew their designs if you wanna peep at them:  
> Full Demon Daredevil: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lYkFWNFuvRmyV7i_Qnx2YPC1n8Soykiv/view?usp=sharing  
> True form Angel Punisher: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1bqLVV9bpw-m_hKw3za9RFPq-0jHM0U6R/view?usp=sharing


End file.
